


Breathe For Me (And I'll Breathe For You)

by Just A Couple Of Death Priests (WalkOnThroughARedParade)



Series: Let's Be Selfish [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: A Gay In Crisis, F/F, Jasmine is genderfluid for anyone reading this who doesn't know, Other, When presenting as male they go by Wesley, again idk why I'm explaining since Literally just my gays are probs gonna read this BUT, which I doubt this is being read by anyone who doesn't know but???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkOnThroughARedParade/pseuds/Just%20A%20Couple%20Of%20Death%20Priests
Summary: Inarri lit each candle, and watched the flames reflect in the surface of the mirror, before tipping her head back and blinking up at the dark sky.Lady of Secrets and Starlight. Fairest Lady. Mother. Grant me the wisdom to know what I want.Alternatively; In Which Inarri Asks For Guidance





	Breathe For Me (And I'll Breathe For You)

Inarri slipped carefully out from her bed, bare feet sinking into the grass and the soft, damp earth beneath it, and cast a furtive look around at the others, checking no one else was awake, before she picked up her pack and started the careful walk away from camp.

She could feel the eyes of Malus behind her, the golem shifting focus from the portals to her back briefly, but ignored him in favour of continuing her trek, not even pausing until she was sure she was far enough away that none of the others would hear her; before she dropped to her knees, sighing softly to herself and shutting her eyes.

Inarri lifted a hand to her mouth, touching her fingertips to her lips hesitantly for a second before she turned to her pack and started to retrieve what she needed.

It had been a long time since she had carried out this ritual in particular. Not since she’d still been in the Underdark, still a child dressed in the silver robes of a novice priestess, exchanging hushed whispers with the other girls during ceremonies they were supposed to be silent for. It was Cerlis, she thought, who had taught it to her; how to arrange the candles in a triangle, to crush the incense into a powder and mix it with oil to paint lines across her cheeks and across her brow.

It was a little girl ritual. Something no grown woman was supposed to need or place any stock in.

She placed the candles anyway, after carving the appropriate prayers into the wax and smearing ash into the grooves. She took the mirror from around her neck, setting it in the middle of the triangle; and, after a moment of hesitation, took the pendant Vilda had given her from around her neck, and set it aside.

Inarri lit each candle, and watched the flames reflect in the surface of the mirror, before tipping her head back and blinking up at the dark sky.

_ Lady of Secrets and Starlight. Fairest Lady. Mother. Grant me the wisdom to know what I want. _

The prayer was a private one - that had always been so important when Cerlis had walked them through how to carry out the ritual, the words had to be  _ secret _ , otherwise She wouldn’t listen - and Inarri let out a slow, careful breath, before looking back down at the mirror, studying the surface, unblinking.

When she had been a girl, when Cerlis had taught her and the other wide-eyes novices, she’d said you were supposed to see the face of your soulmate in the mirror.

They’d been too young to understand that there was no place for romance in Drow society, of course, or to understand that soulmates were  _ bullshit _ . Inarri’s soul was whole; no man or woman or anyone held half of it, she was not an incomplete entity waiting to be fixed.

But it was a plea for guidance, too; and though it had been a long time since she’d needed it like this, she needed it.

The mirror flickered with soft orange light, and she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.

She though about Vilda, about her white hair spread across her pillow, about the warm weight of her, about her blue eyes and her gentleness with Gymie. She thought of Narls and the curl of his smirk, of the little white-haired boy she’d pretended she hadn’t remembered, of how his lips had been dry and his eyes like shards of obsidian when she’d grown bored and stopped talking to him.

She thought of the other druids, the ones she’d grown up with. She thought of clammy hands, of warm and cold ones. She thought, with a sad fondness flooding her chest, of the time she’s seen Tarik hidden between a couple of trees, another boy’s hands in his hair, calmer and happier than she’d ever seen her little brother.

She remembered how she’d healed his knuckles after he’d broken the jaw of that same boy after he’d broken his heart. How he’d vowed never to give himself to anyone else again. How he’d kept that vow right up until she’d left.

Inarri thought of Jasmine.

She thought of the way her fingers wrapped around her rifle, and of the intense set of her eyes when she aimed. How the muscles in her jaw moved minutely the split second before she fired. How she bit at her bottom lip when she missed, air hissing through her teeth as she reloaded, tried again.

She thought about the sheer, unmistakable joy in her face when she fought with her rapiers. About her speed, about the elegant line of her waist, about how her shoulders moved with each thrust, about the delicate flick of her wrist.

Inarri thought about the panic that had shuddered through her when she’d realised Wesley was missing when they’d woken after first escaping Kicks. How she’d been ready to tear through the entire cursed town to retrieve him.

She thought about the lilt of her accent when she was Jasmine, the gentle rasp to his voice when he was Wesley.

She touched her hands to her face, pressed her cold knuckles against her cheeks, and thought about the look on her face when the genderfluid fighter had asked  _ how old are you, really? _

Jasmine had looked quite lovely, lit only in the glow of the drift globe, face smooth and a touch vulnerable with sleep still in her eyes, her dark hair messy. She’d looked touchable in a way she generally didn’t when wielding her gun, attainable and far more human than during the day time, the skin beneath her eyes soft and shadowed with the need for sleep.

_ How old are you _ , she’d asked.

Did it  _ matter? _

Inarri hadn’t bothered answering the question, because of  _ course _ it mattered. Human lives were so short, were fleeting in a romantic kind of way, where the lives of elves were...not. Most Elves did not live forever, of course, and very few lived as long as the Council of Eight, who had prolonged their lives with their magic, but they were not short lived creatures.

And, well. Drow society had no time for romance. Her race was not built for it; not even in little ways, like in the sweet sharpness of a short life.

In the grand scheme of things, Inarri was young, was a similar age to Jasmine, but she had not been asking about the grand scheme of things. She’d wanted numbers, years, an exact account; and Inarri had seen over a hundred.

One hundred and thirty four, in a month’s time.

She had likely outlived an entire generation of Jasmine’s family in her youth. Possibly more than one.

She would outlive Jasmine by  _ centuries _ .

It had never mattered to her before, the idea of watching friends grow old and die while she continued ever onward, aging so slowly they probably never saw it. In truth she’d never exactly had to worry about it before, surrounded by other Drow and Elves even when in the swamp, but even when she had started travelling with the others it had never occured to her.

She knew other races did not live as long as she did. She knew she would outlive a lot of people. It had never bothered her.

Until now.

“Does it mean I am not allowed things like this?”

She murmured the question, still watching the mirror; and for a moment, thought she saw its surface ripple.

When nothing else happened she shut her eyes, and scrubbed her hands back through her hair, careless of how it pulled at the plait she’d tied it into before attempting to fall asleep.

It seemed backwards to her, the idea she could not have Jasmine because the fighter’s life was so much shorter that hers. It should be the other way around, surely? Time was so precious, why should they waste time pretending they both didn’t...that neither of them  _ wanted _ to…

But she couldn’t make that argument. Because she’d promised to give Jasmine time.

Inarri squeezed her eyes shut tighter, and pressed her fingers back against her mouth, pressing hard against her lips.

She didn’t know who she was any more, Druid or Priestess, vessel to the energy of this Void Father or servant of Chione, daughter to her mother or the child of the monstrosity her father had become. She didn’t know if she was good or bad or part of the nothing in between, did not know if she was merely indifferent by nature or  _ broken _ in her lack of empathy for those who suffered the destruction they seemed to always leave in their path. Did Graves go looking for trouble or was it just that trouble found them regardless of their actions?

Was she really what Chione wanted?  _ Really _ ? Would she not have been better suited with her mother?

She scrubbed at her face with both hands, and sucked in a trembling, slightly hysterical breath.

Inarri didn’t know much; but she knew this. Knew she wanted Jasmine, whether she was Jasmine or Wesley, whether she was at her most savage or most noble and caring.

She knew that she had promised her  _ time _ , and that for her own part she would spend that time trying not to tear herself into pieces, but that nothing would force her to break that promise. Inarri would not force an answer from Jasmine, had no desire to quash any affection she might feel for her by being any more obnoxious and awful than she already was.

But beyond that…

She opened her eyes, blinking tiredly down at the candles, before blowing each of them out and putting her things away again.

Inarri put the mirror back around her neck again, and only hesitated a moment before doing the same with Vilda’s pendant, clutching the egg in one hand for a moment before sighing and getting back to her feet, heading back toward the others.

She set her pack down and climbed back into her bed, conscious of the eye on her; and didn’t look over when her watcher spoke, just staring up at the dark sky, breathing carefully.

“Are you alright?”

Inarri was tempted to look over at Jasmine, to meet her eyes, maybe smile at her; but instead she closed her eyes, sighing softly.

“When we go to get Morthos’ sister, we should travel through my home. I miss the stars there.”

She would need to talk to her brother; to remind him that just because one stupid boy had treated him carelessly, it did not mean there was not someone out there who was right for him. That just because Drow were not built for romance that did not mean they didn’t  _ deserve it _ . 

She heard Jasmine make a quiet, surprised noise, closely followed by a murmur of agreement; and the knot in her chest, the one that hadn’t gone away from weeks, loosened a little.

Yes. She would go home on the way to help Morthos save his sister.

And she would show Jasmine her stars.


End file.
